The Ballad of Bad Guys
by The Evil Duchess
Summary: Poor Indigo Kelly, one day he's a loser documentary-maker, the next kidnapped by a group of assassins hired by Eric Cartman, president of a major company. What do they want from him? And what happens when he falls for one of his capturers? OCs wanted!
1. The Lame Ass Prologue Before the Story

**A/N: **Thanks for clicking on and reading this horrible brainchild of mine! Try not to vomit and please, please send an OC between the ages 20 to 29 because assassins are needed direly. Include things like, clothes, hair, eyes, height, weapon of choice, hobbies, or anything else that might be useful.

**Disclaimer**: No, don't even ask…

* * *

Indigo Kelly knew, that despite his blue hair (dyed after downing enough everclear to kill a plow horse), his life was boring. While all the other 25 year olds were out getting laid and paid _he_ was in South Park, Colorado making a documentary on Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski's fight against the major gas company Sweet n' Pure. He had almost no idea what day it was and the only gossip he knew was that the City Wok he lived on top of made their Kung Palo chicken out of cockroaches and cats.

He had gotten use to this lonely and dim existence. But unfortunately for him it came to an abrupt end the morning (two a.m to be exact) he found a dead skunk in his bed.

At first Indigo had thought it was a blanket or a teddy bear and he hugged it close, before getting a whiff of the stinky corpse. He opened his eyes slowly and stared at it for a few minutes before letting out a loud, shrill, girlish shriek.

"HOLY FUCK!" The navy-haired man yelled and jumped off the bed with a leap that could make Shawn Johnson envious.

As he examined the deceased animal from a distance (while prodding it with a toilet plunger) he noticed a pink sticky note on its head. It read: check anus. Indigo grimaced; no way in hell was he going to poke around in a skunk's butt hole. Right? He looked at the note, then the skunk's…. you-know-what, then the note again.

"God damn it." He cursed before spreading the animal's legs. In the foul cavern he spotted a big red button with "Press me faggot!" scrawled on it. Indigo sullenly obliged and a soothing female voice filled the room.

"Mr. Kelly, we request your presence at Stark Pond. Come alone. Details shall be explained then. Thank you for your time. This vessel will self-destruct in 5, 4,3,2,1…"

"Weak!"

* * *

Two men sat huddled on a bench over looking the murky pond, one a brooding brunette with a limp cigarette dangling out of his mouth and the other a blonde trying very hard to wave the smoke away from himself.

"Gregory, 'e eezn't going to come." The brunette spoke first with a heavy (somewhat annoying) French accent.

'Gregory' scowled, "Why of course he is, you mustn't be so negative, Christophe."

Silence. Somewhere a frog croaked.

"Let us play zat American game, oui? What eez eet called again? I Spy?"

"Okay let me start, I spy with my little eye-"

Christophe rolled his eyes, "Do not say my leetle eye! Zat sounds so faggy!"

"I'll say it however I want," Gregory replied stubbornly, "I spy _with my little eye_ something that is… red."

"Er, zat house over zere?"

"No."

"Zat car?"

"No."

"Your panties?"

"No!"

"What else eez red?" Christophe growled.

"That house." His companion replied.

"Zat's zee one I said first!"

Gregory crossed his arms. "No, the house you pointed to was magenta, _mine_ was red."

"I'll show you red, you leetle pussy-" they both pocketed their weapons when a small blue gremlin pulled up.

Indigo stepped out of his car and jogged to where the two men sat. "Couldn't you two have sent me a fax?" he muttered.

The two shrugged.

"So, Periwinkle, you must be wondering why you're here." Gregory smiled charmingly.

"It's Indigo, and yeah, I am wondering. I'm also wondering why I'm covered in guts."

Christopher took a long drag from his cancer-stick, "Zee reason is, Sapphire, we are under 'is orders to complete a task, a task zat you must…'elp wiz. 'E will tell you why later…"

Indigo, despite his tough guy act, was very (scared) cautious, " It's Indigo. And what if I refuse this "task".

Gregory raised an eyebrow, "Tell me, In-the-go, you come from Maryland right," He didn't wait for an answer, "And in Maryland your siblings and parents reside, yes? Well, tell on us to the boys in blue or fail to corporate and that cute little family…. becomes no more. Have I made myself clear?"

"H-how do I know your not just bluffing." Indigo said quietly.

"Right now your fisher-man fazzer and zee brozzers are getting on zere boat for a new day. Your muzzer cannot sleep and 'as decided to knit you a sweater. At least that's what my associates say. " Christophe replied boredly.

"Believe me now?""

And with that, Indigo was skillfully knocked out and shoved into the back of a great black car. License plate: The Mole. Destination: Unknown.

* * *

**SEND OCS!!!**


	2. Conference Call

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it yet. Maybe by next year? I also don't own those six AMAZING OCs.

**A/N: **Okay, I'm sorry if you feel like I neglected or didn't include enough details about your OC. As the story progresses your hear much more about them. Again, I'm sorry.

* * *

Indigo was awoken the same way he had been put to sleep. With a hard punch in the face.

He was in someone's kitchen, his hands and feet had been tied to a chair facing a large wooden table with dents that might or might not be from human heads. About fourteen men and women sat in various places around him, everyone looking more threatening then the next. Their expressions went from bored to child-on-Christmas day glee. Indigo could feel eyes flickering from his scrawny body, to his gore-splattered clothes, and then finally, landing on the dyed blue, spike-y monstrosity that sat on top of his head.

"Good Morning Mr. Kelly."

Indigo looked across the table at the young woman sitting between his new "friends" Christophe and Gregory (or, as he decided to name them, brit-shit and stupid-french-asshole-retard). She was, well, pretty. The owner of a thick mane of curly blonde hair and big (as ironic as it seems) indigo eyes. Not to mention a rather ….er…._ full _bust. Not that Indigo noticed or anything…

"My name," she smiled politely, "is Bebe Steve-_S_… Bebe S. "

"Charmed." The blue haired man replied sarcastically, in no mood for politeness. Once again, Christophe's (or stupid-french-asshole-retard's) fist connected to his face.

" What the fuck?" Indigo yelled, but through an incredibly swollen lip it sound more like "Wub da fuwwk?"

"You muz never deesrezpect a lady. Leetle cockzucker."

Bebe patted the Christophe's arm, "Anyway, Mr. Kelly please do not be alarmed, you are still in South Park. Sweet n' Pure corporations just need you to give us information on and Mr. Brofloski, your making a film about them after all. Just give us what we need and soon you can pretend none of this ever happened."

Indigo heard murmurs of conversation behind him.

"The dude looks like a pussy. Seven bucks he'll start to cry." A scowling guy wearing an ridiculous blue poof-ball hat muttered to his tan female companion with long black hair and GREEN side bangs. She elbowed him but her electric brown eyes danced with mirth. A wiry person, Indigo wasn't sure what gender, flipped a rusty red bang out of an olive green eye and mouthed "fucking lame".

Another man (at least Indigo thought it was a man…. he was enclosed in a huge orange parka) smirked and whispered something into the ear of woman with wavy coal-black hair wearing something that looked like a rainbow on acid. She raised an eyebrow and grinned before whispering it to a soulful looking black man who chuckled and told it to the serious looking woman with long snow-colored hair who looked like she had just stepped out of a classy business meeting. She, in turn, rolled her eyes.

The crazy looking blonde male perched on the counter squawked out something about 'underpants gnomes' but was soothed by a girl with short brown/blonde hair, vibrant green eyes, and a sweet southern drawl. A plain-looking guy picked at a scab and a sleek brunette with striking golden eyes and clothes that looked like they had just jumped of the pages of Vogue absent mindedly fluffed Gregory's hair.

Indigo took a deep, deep breath, "What is Sweet n' Pure going to do with my information."

"Every person in this kitchen is a hired killer. We are planning the assassination of both Stan and Kyle."

* * *

You know that feeling you get when assassins surround you?

When it turns out fourteen strangers need your help murder two decent human beings and if you don't comply your family will be killed?

And suddenly you notice dried bloodstains on the wall and a foul stink wafting from the closet?

That realization that nothing is "okay'?

That you are supremely, superbly, totally screwed?

No?

Indigo was beginning to.


	3. Assassins Have No Table Manners

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed.

**A/N: ** I have a new editor! And she's my very own sister! She's very blunt…and makes loud noises randomly just to scare me while I'm writing. Plus as soon as I take my hands away from the keyboard it all becomes some style lemon written in chat-speak. But still, new (and first) editor!

* * *

"And we can all lobby for a safer, healthier, cleaner world. Thank you."

From the couch Stan gave a disgusted sound and shook his head. "Nah, you sound like a supreme asshole. You gotta make a joke."

"A joke? You think this is funny? Sweet n' Pure is killing our planet! Kyle looked up from his note-cards and snarled.

"What I meant was, all successful public figures are funny. Barack Obama, Lenny Bruce, Benjamin Franklin, Matt Stone and Trey Parker-"

"Benjamin Franklin wasn't funny!"

"He was a big fat guy with a ponytail. 'Course he was funny."

Kyle flopped next to his friend dramatically and heaved a sigh. "So what do _you _think I should say?"

"I don't know…. How about, um… jeez, uh… How 'bout this: Sweet n' Pure_ isn't so sweet and pure_."

"…"

"Killer huh?"

"…"

"That's terrible."

Wendy walked in and sat between her fellow environmentalists. "Say what your feeling." Yes, she was cool enough to quote Disney with a straight face.

"I'm_ feeling_ like this rally is a terrible idea."

Stan turned on the TV. "What's the worst thing that could happen? It's not, like, assassins are going to be there."

"Yeah…" Kyle paused, face illuminated by the television's cheery glow. "Hey, this is off topic but have you seen the documentary guy around? Azure something?"

* * *

After a few seconds the man in the orange hoodie abruptly stood up and grinned, breaking the mood completely. " All right now that that's been cleared up, time for dinner… and beer… and possibly more beer!" A light cheer greeted him. Bebe shrugged and visibly loosened at the mention of alcohol.

Without untying their new befuddled guest, forks and plates were flung onto the table, seating arranged for fourteen and Christophe (or SFAR) pulled an unidentified dish out of their fridge next to the battered freezer full of… only god knows what.

"Enjoy, you deesgusting leetle beetches. Feel zee gap een your souls with cuisine." And with those light-hearted words Christophe slammed it on the table and hastily lit a cigarette.

After wolfing down a few forkfuls of the brownish greenish mess the girl with day-glow green bangs started to talk energetically to Indigo. "I'm Lucy and the constipated looking fellow with the hat on my left is Craig… but everyone calls him Cragily-Poo!"

Craig glared. "You're the only one who calls me that, spaz!" He flipped her off. A gesture she cheerfully mirrored.

"Nuh-uh! Adrienne, Lucky and Marisa do too!"

The girl dressed like a bag of skittles, the southerner in a Nirvana shirt and bomber jacket, and Missy Gold Eyes all looked up as their names were called and nodded energetically.

"But, darling, I prefer Craig Bear." "Adrienne" giggled. More middle finger action on Craig's part.

"Lucky" thought for a second. "Really? I particularly like Craig-zilla after the miniature golf incident."

"Your all wrong," "Marisa" paused to fluff her shiny dark hair, "McMeany is the best." Craig's third finger was starting to get sore.

"Fuck you guys!" He said sulkily, though no one seemed to care. "And you," he gestured to Indigo with his fork, "call me Craig and **nothing** else. Indigo gulped and nodded.

"Hey. I'm Token." The African-American man sitting next to Craig smiled tiredly, ignoring the argument completely. He wore an eggplant purple shirt with a big "T" on it. Indigo wondered if it was custom-made.

"I'm I-Indigo."

"I know."

Token elbowed the white-haired girl at his side (who's 'do looked like on of a sheepdog's). "My name is Hope." She said in deadpan, as if a simple greeting was taking all her energy.

"Clyde." The plain-but chubby-looking guy said happily, spewing half-eaten food everywhere.

The guy in neon orange pushed Clyde out of the way, "And I'm Kenny." He pulled down his headache colored hood, exposing shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a charismatic smirk. Adrienne giggled and blushed girlishly at him, causing everyone in the room (even Indigo) to roll their eyes.

"So," Kenny asked Indigo as he pointed to his shirt, "Tweeky gave you the old animal bomb."

"Wha-"

The insane blonde looked up from his dinner and interrupted Indigo with a large shriek, "I-it's not a, ngh, bomb! It's an e-e-exploding message!"

"It's a bomb Tweek."

"GAH! No it's not!"

"Indigo, what would you call it?" Marisa asked.

"I-"

"Hey!" Adrienne elbowed her. "Don't hog the guest! Sorry indigo"

"You're hogging the guest!"

"Excuse-"

"I'm not hogging him! Indigo am I hogging you?"

"Well-"

Lucy cocked her head. "Indigo, how do you dye your hair without drying it out?"

"Um-"

"Now you're hogging him!" Adrienna and Marisa yelled.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-uh!"

"Golly gosh, aren't you all mature." Lucky muttered and massaged her temples.

Kenny smiled wider, "Catfight!" Craig and Clyde perked up at this. They were given four icy glares that could kill a rhino. The men clammed up fast.

Token shook his head and waved goodbye to Indigo before wandering off with Hope and a six-pack of beer. Tweek departed after "borrowing" several knives and some baking soda. Gregory pulled Marisa from the room by the collar of her shirt and Bebe seemed to have disappeared halfway through dinner. Smart move.

Christophe clutched at his hair. "Puzzies, zere all puzzies." He stomped outside. His boy or girl companion got up to follow before noticing Indigo was still there and involuntarily watching the argument turned flirtfest.

"Fuck." He/she spat before grabbing the back of his chair and half dragged half carried him out of the kitchen and into the grey, torn up living room which held a couch and what looked like a T.V.

"What are you doing?" Indigo yelped.

It snarled. "Finding a place to put you. Now shut the hell up."

The redhead attempted the stairs but gave up after a few seconds out of pure laziness. The boy or girl surveyed the downstairs area before his/her eyes landed on a small black door.

"That's it, you're bunking with Mr. Kitty."

"Mr Kitty?" He was tossed in to a dingy room that held a mattress, a mangy grey cat and huge quantities of animal waste.

"Enjoy."

Indigo did not want to get on this persons bad(der) side so he decided to be gracious, "Thanks man." He forced out.

The woman punched him in the face, making that the third time this evening.


	4. Wake Up Into A Nightmare

**Disclaimer: Why, yes, yes I do own South Park, I just forgot. Now get me a meeting with the writers… we have some slash to write.**

**A/N: I have a goal for this story: have Indigo get hurt in every single chapter XD Also, guess what? This is the last chapter of explain-y-ness! I CAN MOVE ON WITH THE PLOT! YAY!**

* * *

_Steven Spielberg and Tim Burton, both in matching glitter gold tuxes, smiled and pulled out a thin sparkling pink envelope, seemingly out of nowhere. _

"_And the winner of the everything award goes to…. Indigo Kelly!" _

_The audience went crazy, sexy women pulled up their tops, diamonds rained down, and rainbow fireworks went off. _

_Indigo sprinted on stage and grown men sobbed at his awesomeness. "Thank you! Thank you! Ah jeez your making me blush." He sang, collecting bundles flowers and for some unknown reason receiving a…tiara? _

"_You make me so hot Indigo!" Bebe gushed; she was wearing a tight playboy bunny costume and stilettos._

_But, just as Tom Cruise bent down to lick his shoes something went amiss. Indigo looked down to realize: he was wearing only his briefs! The once-loving audience started hissing and booing. Tomatoes and eggs pelted him viciously. The bras and panties that littered the stage turned into hissing underwear-snakes. _

"NOOOOOO!" Indigo shrieked and shot up from the mattress. Wait…_shot _up, he wasn't tied to a chair anymore. He felt his chest. No rope. It had all been a dream! Exploding animals, crazed psychos, all of it a horrible, horrible nightmare. He hugged Mr. Kitty out in a state of pure bliss.

Wait…. Mr. Kitty?

"Oh for the love of…" Indigo groaned and held his head in his hands. Mr. Kitty gave him a pitying look and mewed in sympathy. After a few weak sobs he noticed a pile of clothes topped off with a pink sticky note (assassins seem to have a thing for them).

_Mr. Kelly, to be perfectly frank you look and smell disgusting, plus I can't begin to tell you how many diseases you might spread with a shirt covered in internal organs. Luckily, Kenny was kind enough to share some of his wardrobe with you. Please, I'm begging you, wear them. _

_Bebe_

Indigo scratched the cat's head as he examined his new outfits. It was bad, oh it was very _very _bad: an alarming array of (multicolored) skinny jeans, a mesh wife beater, a furry purple parka, and a few lewd shirts ("Rednecks do it better, faster and with their cousins"…how charming). He picked the least offensive top and bottom, the neon green jeans and the bubble gum pink tee with "NUMBA ONE PLAYA!!!" written on it in rhinestones.

After squeezing into these pieces of attire he searched for the pair of black snow boots he had been wearing but they weren't there. Bebe must have taken them away so yours truly couldn't make an escape. Indigo was surprised to find the door unlocked, Bebe must have done that too.

He scooped up Mr. Kitty and padded out into the living room, which seemed even more dilapidated in the morning light. A butcher knife stuck out of the leather sofa, _Peoples _and _Play Boys _(an odd mix) covered the scratched wood floor, the T.V sat on top of two milk crates with some sort of ancient game system connected to it, and a leaking bean bag chair consumed a corner of the room, weapons were strewn recklessly everywhere. A narrow staircase led to the upstairs and a large door frame gave a view into the kitchen. The entire place gave of a sort of old-farmhouse-meets-teenage-adolescent's-room-meets-terrorist-hide-out vibe.

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kanas anymore."

Indigo, too caught up in the glorious mega-movie-nerdness he had achieved, failed to acknowledge a discarded pizza box. Needless to say he tripped and fell face-first on to the ground, gaining him yet another bruise and three scratches from the cat. Continuing his unlucky streak.

* * *

Meanwhile in the heart of Denver....

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

RING!!!!

"Huh? Whuzzat." Lillith Evans murmured, awoken from her usual desk time nap. Her dark blonde hair mussed, her purple eyes half closed, several knots in her silver necklace and a pink sticky note stuck to her pale cheek. She reached blindly for the phone and yawned into it, "Hullo, Eric Cartman's office, Lillith speaking, how may I help you."

"Um, I'm having a poetic emergency." A soft voice said seriously."Do you know what I can rhyme with 'Bickhead'?"

Lillith shoot up and screamed, causing various office supplies to fly up randomly, "LUCKSTER!"

"The one and only Lil'." Lucky grinned as she surveyed the snowy forest outside her window. Seriously, it was like a postcard for New England...the one and only perk of living in the middle of South Park's forest.

"What a great surprise!"

You could practically _hear _Lucky raise an eyebrow, "Well, since Prince Porkchop cut off all our phone lines but this one....it really shouldn't be."

"Oh..." Lillith sounded slightly deflated. "So anyway, what's up?"

"Nothing much, we have a grown man locked in our basement. It's that guy Cartman wanted." She drawled. "His hair is blue."

The secretary chuckled, "Coolio. God, I miss being out in the field with you guys, I'm totally getting desk ass. The only fun I had was with those Green Peace people. And they are _such _easy targets. I could hit one with my eyes closed."

"But Lil, we aren't out in the field. It's Mission Babysit. Avery wants to know why we can't just torture the information out and kill him....but I think that's mainly because he called her a guy."

"Heh. Just tell her without Mr. Blue Hair we can't get into the d-e-b-a-t-e and k-i-l-l the h-i-p-p-y-s. And then if they don't d-i-e we'll get sued for millions and the Nazi won't like that at all. Remember the PETA incident?"

"It's h-i-p-p-i-e-s."

"Whatever. Anyway, how's my boy?"

The green eyed woman sighed, "Tweek is as good as can be expected." And for a while the two chatted aimlessly about nothing (Lucky, ignoring the loud thump and weak groaning from downstairs).

Suddenly, the southerner's tone turned serious and grim. "...Ever miss being the good guys, Lil?"

Her friend cleared her throat, "We were never the good guys."

* * *

**Extremely sorry if your OC wasn't in this chapter!!! I swear I haven't forgotten about anyone, it's just I have waaaay to much to put in just one chapter. **


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